A History of Violence

Okay. Not violence, exactly. How about prolonged dental trauma.

Years and years ago, I was a young boy. Being a rambunctious boy, I loved trampolines. I loved to jump higher and higher. I jumped high one day, just to land quite awkwardly on the general area of my face, and specifically my front tooth. Oh! Did I mention that I did not land on the netting of the trampoline, but rather on the steel frame? Yeaahhhhhhhh, well. I nearly lost my tooth. I did chip it.

Fast forward to high school. My poor tooth is committing suicide through nerve death. Who loves root canals? No takers. So, now my tooth is devoid of life. Hollow on the inside.

Those of you who knew me in college may remember the era of the brown tooth. Yeah. What can brown do for you? Mostly make your smile look horrible. So, now I have my dead tooth ground to a nub, in order to pop on a crown. It was a great looking crown.

Now it's just a hop, skip, and a jump to the present. My crown covered cavity catcher is at it again. Decay under the crown has now caused me to seek out an oral surgeon. I about a week I'll have a titanium rooted tooth. We can rebuild him. We have the technology. What gets me the most is that my dental insurance will only cover about 300 dollars of the cost of the surgery. The rest, equivalent to the value of a Kia Rio (is it just me, or if you say that really fast does it sound like an ailment?) will be all mine to bear. At least I'll have enough air miles to fly halfway to Hilo, Hawaii.

That's what's up with me. I guess I just like experiencing trauma to the mouth.